


Applied Multiverse Theory - Praxis & Paradox

by Triskaideka



Category: Avengers: Endgame - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky is still a work in progress displaying unhealthy mental behaviors, LLF Comment Project, Not Beta'd, Other, also featuring some Bucky & Sam shenanigans, background Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers, bucky pov, endgame spoilers, if you're not happy with the ending this may make you feel worse, the major character death is off-screen and this is aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triskaideka/pseuds/Triskaideka
Summary: [For those of you reading from a Works or search page, minor Endgame spoilers ahead.]A slight alteration to the coda in which their worst fears are realized when there's a hitch in the final step of the plan: the one sent to return the Gems doesn't return - but they do send a messenger.[Further Endgame spoilers avoided with very generalized wording. These bracketed notes will be deleted from the summary in a few weeks.]





	Applied Multiverse Theory - Praxis & Paradox

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Xaandria for clearing up some plot confusion after my first viewing.
> 
> I've never written and posted a fic in less than 24 hours before so please be gentle.

Bucky has a good innate sense of time, so he counts the seconds and after reaching sixty, he tunes out the fast-brewing argument with Sam yelling for Banner to bring Steve back _now_. There’s a heaviness in his heart, the leftover premonition that he would never see Steve again growing into choking certainty. Banner tried to account for as many variables as he could, upgrading the fail-safes in the suit, but not even he can account for _every_  possibility.

It still feels like a knife sliding between his ribs when Steve doesn’t reappear. He can’t bring himself to look away from that spot, not when it seems like the cosmos let Steve bring him back just so it could laugh nastily and separate them again.

Nor is this mini-stakeout sustainable in the long term but he could take a step back into the... the training and keep watch here for the fail-safe to kick in and drag Steve back. But the platform remains empty and time continues to stretch onward.

Sam’s yelling increases in volume, like he’s the physical manifestation of the storm of emotion tearing up Bucky’s insides. The quiet betrayal. With no Avengers, with no Sam, with no Bucky at his side for backup, of course Steve’s chewed off more than he can handle. It’s what makes him Steve.

He’s spiraling into a bad place but he also can’t make himself care, watching it happen. Hyper aware of the present and his emotions but passive. Arguably in shock.

And then... and then there’s someone on the platform and he’s immediately analyzing: a few inches shorter than Steve; white male, balding, blandly professional expression, and wearing a suit similar to the one Steve wore. Carrying miscellaneous objects, none of them with the profiles of weaponry. He blinks in the sunlight and turns slowly to take in his environs.

“Sam...?” Bucky calls. Modern military man like Sam tends to know more faces.

He hears Sam say quietly to Banner, “Who is that?”

It’s Banner who calls, cautiously, “Coulson?”

The newcomer dips his head and takes Banner’s calling out as an invitation to slip down the staircase and approach the control panel. As he does, his superheroing suit morphs into a suit and tie. Bucky’s seen original Star Trek, courtesy of T’Challa and Wakandan hospitality, and he listened attentively to the explanations of how the tech worked. No goatee on this guy, but it’s apparently a big multiverse. That’s why Bucky steps in the way, pointedly flicking his gaze from this Coulson’s face to the items he carries.

Coulson’s face goes from bland to blazing grin as he takes in Bucky in return, just for a second, and then the veneer of affability, of seriousness slips back into place. “You’re the man I’m looking for.”

Interdimensional arrest? “I am?”

His next words seem to come through a tunnel. “Your Steve sent me, by way of apology, since he couldn’t come back himself.” Couldn’t. Didn’t want to? “Our Pym only just got the hang of stable particles; something to do with organic matter attached to a sapient mind not wanting to be torn away from its home universe.”

Bucky isn’t truly seeing the items his eyes are resting on, not with the roaring of all his lifelong worst nightmares blotting everything else out. He can’t act precipitately; he’ll need to come up with a plan with Banner’s approval to extract Steve; hell, if this Coulson is here to deliver a demand for ransom? He’ll go through and pay it and also extract pounds of flesh—

Now Sam is at his side, respectful of what he says is called a _personal bubble_ , shoring up his crumbling emotional barriers. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks belligerently.

Coulson hefts his burden a little as if they should recognize its significance.

Sam’s shoulders deflate in Bucky’s peripheral vision. Just by a hair. Suspicion and defeat war for supremacy in his voice, now husky. “That doesn’t look like any national flag I know.”

Coulson half-closes his eyes and tilts his head slightly in acknowledgement.

Now that it’s been positively identified, Bucky can focus on the triangular wooden display case with a flag inside. There’s a plaque affixed to it, bottom-center, and the words on it blur not because he’s about to have a dissociative episode but because of tears gathering. Sam makes a ragged noise when Coulson hands the flag’s display case to him but he’s still cradling more items in his other arm. A small wooden chest and below that, peeking out around Coulson’s immaculate suit, feathery paper with ragged edges as if shaped by shears.

Grass crunches underfoot as Banner comes to stand behind Bucky and Sam, his shadow falling over even Coulson. When the interdimensional traveler selects the small chest and holds it out, Banner reaches over their heads to take it with quiet reverence.

“Cremated?” Banner asks quietly, his voice a distant thunder storm.

Coulson nods. “Per his will, which was how we found out he wasn’t from our continuity and that his remains needed to be returned to their point of origin.”

He doesn’t say ‘home,’ Bucky thinks. He had a life there, maybe. Maybe Bucky didn’t need to worry. He can let go of the last tether to the world he knew, build his own life here. Pal around with Sam, play pranks on him, and make Steve proud.

Coulson holds out the papers until Bucky belatedly realizes he’s going to have to be the recipient of this third gift. Newsprint; it’s been ages since he’s seen that. He doesn’t bother with reading any of it, not with this possible threat still standing before them.

It’s possible neither side knows what to say.

In the end, Coulson is the one to break the silence. “Your universe shaped him, and we’re forever grateful for it. If we can ever return the favor, send someone our way.” He salutes them with his eyebrows, does a perfect militaresque about-face, and gets back up on the platform before disappearing.

“Wonder what happened to their Steve,” Sam says quietly.

“The obituary might shed some light on that,” Banner replies.

They reorient themselves around Bucky, who feels frozen where he stands, and now their backs are to the platform. If a hole opens in the air with them on the receiving end of aliens starting to pour out, he’ll have a couple seconds’ worth of notice to work up a defense.

“Go on, man, tell us what it says,” Sam urges Bucky.

He lowers his eyes past the headline (“Captain America Dies at 100”), the photo of a wrinkled old man whose steady eyes could still pull Bucky out of any fugue state, scanning past the standard biographical data (“beloved husband of Margaret Elizabeth Rogers, née Carter,” and “godfather to Anthony E. Stark” and “survived by his wife”) to the meat of the life he lived elsewhere, elsewhen. Some of the names are unfamiliar, but he picks out _Howard Stark_  and _Stark Industries board member_  as a starting point to read in earnest. So many exploits are enumerated here that these mere hints cannot convey the magnitude of, and he forgets his audience as a grin steals over him. His Stevie could never stay in the past and not do his utmost to make the future better for everyone.

Marrying his best gal, HYDRA defanged, a (different) Bucky saved, the Cold War averted, the Avengers founded decades earlier, flying cars, interstellar trade negotiations... maybe Bucky should go find a universe of his own to assist. Except he’s got the continued goodwill of the Wakandans, his spot on the Avengers, and the prospect of non-stop messing with Sam right here.

“Barnes?” Sam asks in the tone of someone who’s called a different name a couple times and gotten no reply.

Bucky looks up from the newspaper. “He did all right for himself.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll read it myself when you take a nap after supper like an old man.”

“When you’re over a century old, you can bet you won’t look this good.”

“I got some Pym particles stashed in my room. You wanna test that theory?”

Bucky oh-so-gently nudges Sam with the bicep of his prosthesis and the two of them break away in laughter and banter; Banner chuckling as he falls into step still bearing the ashes. There’ll be time to set up a proper memorial for Steve, time to make the announcement to the Avengers and the world. Time for pranks. Time for healing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey but this could have been so much worse, like the end of Quantum Leap all over again with their "Dr. Sam Beckett never returned home." Regardless, my boys were criminally under served by this narrative and if I can't have satisfaction, I will have catharsis through fic.
> 
> ...but if you write a Steve Rogers-as-Sam Beckett fusion, drop me a note so I can come have feels.
> 
> Addendum, 6/2/19: This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments. Readers who would prefer not to receive a reply to comments, please state something like "no reply necessary" and I'll just stare with heart eyes at my inbox.


End file.
